She looks like a hooker, regular tart,
Owes her face less to nature than cosmetic art.
'Prostitute' or 'loose woman' are terms that might irk her,
So in sanitized speech she's now called a sex worker.
He's 'person of size', he's no longer fat,
These sick-making terms tell us all where we're at.
And if I am tiny, the folks must be taught,
I'm 'verti'c'lly challenged' - its rude to say 'short'
Met a miserable queer in the park one fine day,
He said, 'I am sad, its no fun being gay,
'I'm a 'person of colour', I do like to think,
But they might not accept that because I am pink.'
The young say you are crinkly but the phrase has now shifted,
Instead of just 'old', You're 'chronologic'lly gifted'.
Oxymoronic speech sugars meaning so nicely,
This freedom's intolerance curbs meaning precisely.
Now when Nature calls and I look for a loo,
Do I 'rest' in the 'Rest Room', or is there some new
Euphemism that's right, when I cure constipation;
Will I really get comfort from that 'Comfort Station'?
We've got to the stage we can't say what we mean,
'Politic'lly correct' no more covers the scene,
There's a new phrase for that now, if you can believe
'Appropriately inclusive, should make your gut heave.
This poem has not been translated into any other language yet.I would like to translate this poem